


Season's Greeting

by InoruMarufuji



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: //looks at tags// I made a mess, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Chan is Summer, Decapitation, Execution, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jeongin is Spring, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, Let's surprise Bine with this fic!!, M/M, Minho is Winter, Rare Pairings, Religious Conflict (in a way), Seungmin is Autumn, Stray Kids as the seasons, Summer Child Felix, The rest of the members are Season Children, Winter Child Jisung, just because i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InoruMarufuji/pseuds/InoruMarufuji
Summary: Minho is winter.A season in the realm of eternity, changing and at the same time never-changing in the cycle of birth and death that is created through the seasons' mere existence.But every once in a while, he does yearn for the simplicity of human life, as fleeting and useless as it may be for someone like him to pursue a path he can never go down.Simply because his heart lies within the eternity of blooming flowers, the earthy fragrance after a rainfall and the damp, almost green smell of moss.Minho is Winter.And he is completely, irrevocably in love with Spring.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Kim Seungmin, Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Minho | Lee Know/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 11
Kudos: 59





	1. Seasons Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken/gifts).



> Basically me proving to Bine that I can write rare ships (Minjeong + Seungchan) except I can't write rare ships.
> 
> Love you!! <3

Since the beginning of time, people have been in love with the seasons of their world.

Even without names to refer to them or any concept of time beyond the knowledge that the sun rose and set in a certain rhythm again and again, the humans had always sought to enjoy the thriving life in spring, the warm sun in summer, the pretty leaves in autumn and the snow in winter.

It was a never-ending cycle in a relatively small world, with different types of people enjoying different seasons, but sharing an universal agreement that all seasons held their validity and beauty.

Wasn't spring appreciated because it brought the first signs of life after winter's harsh handling?

Wasn't summer cherished because it supplied consistent and friendly weather when spring couldn't?

Wasn't autumn loved because it gave relief from summer's scorching heat?

Wasn't winter treasured because it held the world in a magical grip of ice?

Seasons demonstrated a perfect interplay, the likes of which had been carefully practiced over thousands of years, but it was ironic in a very cruel sort of way that they never got to fully experience the wonder they created.

Because spring and autumn had no idea of each other's similarity of drawing the world in a pretty scheme of colors, neither would summer and winter ever get to meet each other, both too contrasting in their very beings to be able to exist around the other.

Seasons didn't push one another, neither did clouds race the wind across the sky because all things happened in their time and as an immortal presence that was larger than life itself, they had no reason to rush.

Spring and summer, summer and autumn, autumn and winter, as well as winter and spring, they were all flowing into each other as naturally as a river's stream was striving towards the lowest point of a landscape and they let it happen, for they were nothing more than a plaything to the world and its changes.

Minho didn't remember how he came to be. As far as he was concerned, no season did.

He didn't know where he had come from or who had created him, if he had been created at all, his memory never able to surpass the confines that limited him, that kept him just enough human to be able to exist in his form, but not enough human to be able to interact with the world he had been placed in like he was some kind of tool.

He supposed he was just that.

A physical embodiment made to carry the essence of his season into the world, his mere presence on these grounds enough to wrap everything into a veil of snow and ice, to force the trees to drop their leaves, to shoo the animals into hiding, to instill coldness and sorrow into the hearts of so many.

Minho was a season. He was winter.

After centuries upon centuries of wandering the earth and experiencing the change in nature that never changed, he had gathered the self-awareness necessary to reflect on what he was and what it meant.

He was leading a lonely existence during the peak of his time, as did the other seasons, only able to get into contact with them at the beginning or end of his period, neither of which he could truly enjoy.

His beginning meant Autumn's end, the boy always seeming so weak on his last days before he faded out of existence – to where, Minho didn't know, but as a force beyond a comprehension of time and space, he doubted he would be able to grasp it anyway.

Every cycle, when his work was done and Spring was sat at his side, bright and cheerful as could be as they exchanged pleasantries, he attempted to remain in control enough to be able to tell where he was hurled off to, yet it never bore any fruits.

He had a hunch humans would describe the experience as passing out and floating in a state of nothingness until he awoke at the edge of Autumn again, but the sheer meaninglessness that came with the feeling was never accounted for in the stories they told each other.

Many humans who had passed out claimed they didn't even realize their unconscious state before they were back awake and others said they _dreamt_ of pretty things, but Minho couldn't relate to either of those sensations.

When he wasn't on duty, he felt like he wasn't even existing, trapped in a void, but completely aware of the nothingness of the space he was confined to.

The concept of... _dreams_ was a strange one to him who didn't know the concept of time either.

He didn't act after a _schedule_ or whatever it was those kids behind the hill always talked about, one day he was merely put into the world again and taken from it when the season changed, the force that controlled him never once revealing itself.

That elderly couple in the shack over at Minho's favorite lake called this force _the gods_ and even though Minho didn't quite get it, he had learned to just go along with believing everything he was and did had been wanted by _the gods._

There was no use overthinking why he needed any form of sentience in the first place or how his knowledge of the world came to be because if he had been meant to know, _the gods_ would have told him all that he was curious about, all that burned on his tongue whenever he was granted the mercy of existing.

But clearly, he wasn't meant to know anything.

Clearly, he was just meant to be a tool.

And perhaps the saddest part of his existence was that he, as well as the other seasons, just accepted it, leading a blank and stale life that consisted of little more than snow and cold, with the occasional body turning up, poor souls that had succumbed to the harsh winter due to not having any protection apart from these miserable wooden shacks they resided in and the rags on their shivering bodies.

In winters like these, Minho wondered if there would ever come a time when people wouldn't freeze to death anymore because of him.

None of the other seasons killed humans as regularly and painfully as he did, none of the other seasons was frowned upon as much as he was because he didn't _create_ anything when he arrived.

He only destroyed.

Maybe that was why he liked Spring so much.

Because Spring always conjured so much _life_ out of the _death_ Minho had brought upon the world.

Even now, as he was walking through the snow covered ground and leaving ghostly footprints nobody would ever see, he caught sight of a few yellow specks peeking out of the white mass next to him, right where he _had_ to see them if he was going his usual round.

Daffodils.

One of the first flowers of spring, capable of sprouting even in these conditions and probably the flower that connected them the most, the flower that had become their unofficial promise to each other to meet up in these fleeting threshold times that weren't quite winter, but also not quite spring.

It was a tradition they had established between themselves forever ago and a smile danced on Minho's lips as he crouched down to tug at one of the daffodils, gently at first and then more demanding as he willed the flower to let go of the ground it had thrived within, yet when it only held on even more stubbornly, Minho dropped his hand again and laughed.

''You're not letting me?'', he asked, voice amused as his fingers traced over the daffodil, leaving tiny frozen lines of ice all over it.

Spring always commented on how pretty these ice flowers looked and more often than not, Minho made sure to bring at least one frosted daffodil to their meetings, simply to please the other season. The smiles he got in return were always worth it.

''Nope. Hands off my flowers, Winter.''

The sudden warm and fresh air that embraced him was unmistakable and Minho took his sweet time to revel in it before he got up and turned around, coming face to face with Spring who had an amused grin playing on his lips.

His light pink hair fluttered softly in a breeze Minho couldn't make out and he was definitely giving off a fresh and hopeful aura, like a newly bloomed Hyacinth or that earthy fragrance after rain that humans couldn't seem to get enough of.

To Minho's delight, he also wore one of the fancy flower crowns he enjoyed to make, the many colors contrasting a little with his hair, but in his snow white surroundings, it was never enough.

''You can't stop me'', he huffed, closing the distance between them so he could brush over the flowers on Spring's head, turning them into icy remnants of themselves that sparkled in the weak sunlight from above.

They could be preserved longer like this, but of course as soon as Summer stepped into the picture, they were ruined for good anyway.

Minho's hand lingered on the last flower a little longer than necessary, his hand slowly moving down to Spring's hair and then his cheek, the ice that sprouted from his fingertips slowly melting on the other season's warm skin, remaining there just long enough for Minho to burn the image into his brain before it was gone.

Spring made no indication to flinch away from his touch, even if it was probably as cold as could be, instead leaning into his hand like one of those stray cats did with the children that played in the village.

''You're really cold, you know that?'', he chuckled after a while, but when Minho made an attempt to pull his hand away, it was held in place by the other who seemed to relish the feeling. ''Summer is so hot sometimes, but you're refreshing...''

Frankly, he had no idea how to reply to that, any sort of response getting stuck in his throat as he watched Spring close his eyes and just take a few deep breaths as if he could only now really _breathe,_ as if the biting cold winter air was actually something to get excited about.

Humans complained about it all the time, willing winter to go away already, but here the other was, acting as if it was a blessing to be around him.

How was he supposed to react to that?

His eyes darted around the place as if that would actually help, taking in the less than winter-proof houses on either side of him, the way people around him were dressed in layers upon layers of clothing just to keep warm, their indignant chattering that almost didn't reach his ears.

It was weird how they seemingly existed in the same space as the two of them, but were so completely unaware of their presence.

It was something he never got over even after cycles upon cycles of experiencing the isolation bestowed upon him.

Sure, he had the other seasons, but only during the early and late winter time, making the rest of his stay rather lonely.

''Winter?''

Spring had opened his eyes again, noticably concerned by his lack of response and Minho's gaze settled back on him, still having no clue about what to say.

''Want to go to our spot?'', he finally suggested after another awkward pause of them just staring at each other and Spring nodded happily, letting go of Minho's hand and dashing off, leaving a trail of flowers where his feet hit the snow.

''Race me there!''

Minho didn't feel up to trying to match Spring's energy and childishness, but he figured he could humor him just this once, so he took off running as well, the reward yielded being a surprised screech from the other as he picked up his pace, no doubt a competitive nature hidden somewhere within him.

That had to be nice.

Not that Minho knew anything about it.

Still, even he could admit that the soft, steady thumping on the powdered surface released a wave of joy, the desire and need to just _move_ having never been as present as it was right that moment as he was chasing flowers and fragrances through some human village he had never bothered to learn the name of.

By the time he got to their spot, the beloved lake that was caged between a dense forest on one side and a mountain range on the other, Spring was already there, carefully testing out if the frozen lake would hold his weight this late in winter without collapsing on itself and sending him right into the chilling water.

He'd always held an affinity for frozen things and Minho could appreciate that.

''Did you know?''

Spring waved him over, now fully moving around on the lake and peppering it with flowers, something that looked ethereal in and of itself, but gained even more brilliance with the sun illuminating his figure on the ice.

''Summer found him.''

It took Minho a moment to process the words, but once he did, his eyes widened in awe and he hurried over to Spring, falling into step beside him as they catered to their tradition of exchanging news that had passed between the changing seasons.

''He found the Summer Child?'', he inquired incredulously, just to be sure they were both on the same page. Spring merely gave an affirmative hum and something akin to excitement bubbled up in Minho's chest.

A Season Child. He had really found one.

There were four of them, predictably, all drawn to their respective seasons, and they were pretty much a link between the superhuman sphere in which the seasons resided and the normal, physical world.

A Season Child stored a similar essence within itself than the seasons did which enabled it to supply the one it was connected to with energy.

More importantly, however, was the fact that a season was not banished into the nothingness as long as their Season Child was there and instead passed the time outside their season with them _as a regular participant of the physical realm._

In other words, as a human.

The idea was insane to Minho and not in the bad kind of way.

It was like a game they were made to play, probably initiated by _the gods_ for their own amusement, where the prize was a taste of something they would never be.

He couldn't decide if he found it inherently gracious or downright sadistic, especially considering that every 100 cycles the Season Children switched.

There were four chosen humans who would always be Season Children, who would always be reborn throughout different eras, but today's Summer Child could be a Winter Child 100 cycles from now and vice versa.

Truthfully, it was a very weird game, yet they still played it.

After all, did they have anything else to do?

''The Summer Child is Lee Felix, but Summer didn't let me go near.''

Spring absentmindedly drew a pattern into the air and stretched out his hand, only for a swarm of butterflies to emerge from it.

They circled Minho's head once, then twice and as the third time came around, he caved in and caught the butterflies, successfully turning them into little ice sculptures that he handed back to Spring, knowing it was what he had wanted in the first place.

''Can't believe you keep making me do this'', he mumbled jokingly, eliciting a laugh from the other season as he pocketed his pieces of art.

''It's not murder if I'm the one who created them.''

Minho raised an eyebrow. ''That logic doesn't make sense. Just say you have an obsession with death.''

Spring chuckled, but didn't comment on his words further, letting them fall into a short moment of comfortable silence, both content to bask in the other's presence.

However, it didn't take long for the curiosity to gnaw at Minho once more, thoughts about the Summer Child filling his mind and making him turn to the other who, for some reason, was already gazing at him as if he was expecting him to ask.

''Did Summer... say anything else?''

''Not to me, but he met Felix very late into my season, so I didn't get to chat with them for long anyway. He only told me to stay away.''

He seemed visibly upset being dismissed like this by Summer, but Minho knew the other season had done it merely to protect Felix and not to hurt Spring's feelings.

A Season Child that was bonded to its season got hurt in the presence of any of the other seasons, something that Minho had seen and _felt_ for himself when Autumn had introduced him to his Season Child approximately 250 cycles ago.

He didn't quite remember the boy's name, but he did recall that Autumn and the Autumn Child hadn't exactly been on good terms, having argued with each other over some formalities concerning the term Season 'Child', their debate escalating to the point of Minho feeling he had to try and interfere.

Keyword being _try_.

As soon as he had touched the Autumn Child, the boy had screamed, cradling his arm to his chest and Minho had watched how the nastiest ice burn he had ever seen had blossomed on the boy's skin.

He couldn't have touched him for long, yet his skin had begged to differ, a pale canvas tainted with an ugly shade of pink as the Autumn Child had growled at him to back off with a surprisingly intimidating aura.

Summer probably knew about that story by now.

''But what about Autumn, did he say something? He must have seen more of it.''

Well, probably, but Autumn tended to keep to himself a lot of the time, so he wasn't really as easy to chat with as Spring was, more often than not willing to listen to Minho if he initiated a conversation, but not actively contributing unless it was something that concerned the both of them.

He'd been even more reserved than normally the last time Minho had seen him and with this new piece of information about the Summer Child he had a hunch on why that was.

He'd have to ask next time.

''I don't know more than you do'', he admitted and Spring nodded, suddenly stopping as he realized they had already crossed the entire lake, his gaze shifting upwards to watch the sky and the many stars that twinkled above them.

It was a rather normal thing to have days and nights pass them in a flash whenever they were away from human civilization.

Without any life moving around them, they were unable to cling to the mortal part of their soul that held at least a very basic idea of the concept of time and as a consequence, the world whirled past them at a numbing pace, scraping away at the remaining moments they had with each other.

Minho could never tell exactly when his season was truly over, after all _the gods_ seemed to do that for him, yet he always knew it was time to say goodbye when he noticed his strength draining.

Spring had gotten astoundingly good in reading when his legs were going to give out, enabling him to catch Minho the moment he staggered into his side, hands reaching out for something he could grab onto.

He was slowly lowered down so he could rest comfortably at the edge of the frozen lake that wouldn't remain frozen for much longer anyway and as Spring dropped down next to him, looking to spend Minho's final moments with him like he always did, Minho reached out and took his hand, intertwining their fingers.

''I'll see you around, Spring'', he mumbled, watching the other season flash him one of his pretty smiles.

''You can call me-''

He broke off, obviously unsure whether to continue going down this road that meant no turning back.

Minho silently prayed that he wouldn't and it seemed as if his prayers were heard because Spring merely shook his head and squeezed Minho's fingers reassuringly.

''Nevermind. See you around, Winter.''

Though sometimes he did wonder what his special name would sound like spilling from Spring's lips.

Seasons came and went while Minho was stuck in the all consuming nothingness and it seemed to last too long and not at all at the same time before he was back at the lake inbetween a mosaic of red, brown and yellow leaves dancing around him.

The afternoon sun was setting behind the large body of water, tinting everything into a golden glow, but Autumn himself wasn't here, so Minho set out into the forest, knowing it was Autumn's favorite spot to spend his days in.

His steps made patches of frozen leaves and earth in the ground as he walked along the path that was lined with pumpkins, a left over reminder of the festival the other season enjoyed so much.

_Halloween._

A celebration of the dead that had children dressing up as the most bizarre creatures, going around and collecting candy from other people for their own gain.

At least that was what Minho had gathered from Autumn's tellings about the holidays and even if it sounded strange to him, he wasn't surprised by the traditions that the humans had established between themselves.

If anything, it made exploring the physical realm more desirable to him whenever he caught sight of people hoisting trees into their homes or whenever Spring told him of that habit of people hiding colorful eggs in the grass for children to find.

Humans were an interesting bunch.

Autumn had withdrawn to a glade, sitting cross-legged on a rock and mindlessly chucking little pebbles into a circle he had created out of fallen leaves on the ground.

He flicked a hand at Minho in casual greeting as soon as he joined the other season on the glade, yet made no attempt to start any sort of conversation with him which pointed to the fact that he was probably in a foul mood.

Minho tried anyway.

''Greetings, Autumn.''

He took a step towards the rock Autumn was sat on, but stopped in his tracks when the wind suddenly picked up, whizzing past his ears as if warning him not to get closer.

Seasons couldn't hurt each other with their powers and they both knew that, but Minho didn't want to get on Autumn's bad side, not when he would have to endure the other for all eternity, so he remained where he was.

He could always turn around and explore the world a little on his own, maybe even find the Winter Child in the process, but he preferred interaction with his fellow seasons over being alone.

He had enough time to be alone anyway once Autumn was gone.

''What do you want, Winter?'', Autumn hissed at him, seeing how Minho had made no attempt to move away. ''I'm not up for any chats.''

To stress his words, he threw the remaining pebbles he still had at Minho, but it was a quick fix as Minho merely made a movement with his hand, causing an ice barrier to appear in front of him that reduced the tiny assault to nothing more than patters against the ice.

''I'm just here to displace you'', he calmly stated and Autumn sighed heavily, already knowing his reason for coming anyway as he scooted to the side of his rock to make space for Minho to sit down.

''Sorry. I'm just...''

He broke off to make a frustrated gesture that would have been uncomprehensible to anyone else, but was perfectly clear to Minho in that moment.

After all he'd already had a lingering suspicion and with Autumn acting like this, it was all too obvious what it was about, but Minho decided not to throw him off with a straight to the point question just yet and instead looked around the forest almost lazily.

''You're not looking for the Autumn Child?''

The night had already set on them, the moon casting eerie shadows on the ground that moved in time with the strong gusts of wind and if Minho had been anyone else, he would have probably booked it right about now.

Autumn was technically vibrating with contempt at the question, but his voice sounded incredibly composed as he shot a question of his own back, only the slightest hint of a challenge in his tone.

''Why would I?''

But a challenge was a challenge anyway, so of course Minho rose to it.

''It'll be less lonely.''

He could barely make out Autumn in the dark that enveloped them, yet he could very well feel his vexed glare boring into his soul, as well as the apples that suddenly started to rain down on him from out of nowhere, indicating that the other season was probably more peeved than he let on.

Once again, the problem was fixed with a movement of his hand and his trusty shield that acted as an umbrella this time, but the fall of apples didn't cease, only getting more aggressive as Autumn tensed beside him.

''Less lonely?'', he repeated, almost scathingly so and suddenly, there was a hand on Minho's arm, nails digging themselves into his skin.

Autumn wasn't warm, not like Spring was, but he wasn't as cold as Minho either, teetering right on the edge between uncomfortable and tolerable.

He didn't like it.

''I feel even _more_ lonely because of them. Season Children are nothing but pests, they shouldn't even have been created in the first place.''

Minho had never considered the Season Children anything short of _the gods'_ playthings, just like the seasons themselves, so he held mostly pity for the four humans who would be reborn again and again just for their sake, never able to rest as they were pulled from the well-deserved afterlife and thrust into a new era without even so much as a warning.

They weren't pests.

But Autumn was already set on his opinion, had been ever since he'd met the Autumn Child 250 cycles back, so there was hardly anything that could be done to change his mind, especially now that he was developing a certain hatred towards the Summer Child that he didn't even know of yet.

If Minho was up to date on those human emotions, he was pretty sure Autumn was jealous that Summer spent so much time around the Summer Child and not with him.

''Does Summer ignore you?'', he carefully questioned, ready to bolt to the other end of the forest in case Autumn decided to have one of the trees fall on him, but to his luck the other season relaxed and a faint laugh sounded from next to him.

The sun was starting to rise again, the first rays of the dying Autumn sun that were still too hot for Minho.

''Summer...''

There was an unconcealed bite in his voice, as if he was talking about a particularly nasty animal, and Minho shifted uncomfortably on the rock.

''If he was only ignoring me, I could handle that. I don't care, he can spend as much time with the Summer Child as he wants if that is what gets him off.''

_'If that is what gets him off'?_

Minho furrowed his brows at the strange phrase, having never heard it before and being unable to deter its meaning, probably because Autumn had picked it up from the humans, but the other didn't leave any room for him to ask, instead continuing with his rant.

''But he had the nerve to go ahead and just do...'' He interrupted himself to make another frustrated gesture. '' _That._ ''

''What? What did he do?''

Autumn was being cryptic, dancing around the subject and yet wanting Minho to understand when he really couldn't.

''He knows what he is, what _we_ are, he gave me the proof of his existence as a promise, but he still did it!''

_The proof of his existence._

Summer's special name.

The one thing that was tying the seasons to their existence in the first place.

And apparently, Summer had given his special name to Autumn, a powerful promise whose consequences Minho couldn't even grasp until he made it himself.

Had Summer broken this promise or what was Autumn getting at?

''Autumn, what did Summer **do**?'', he asked, not missing the way the other season flinched as Minho put his hand on his knee.

Autumn looked at him, a true wildfire of rage burning in his eyes, lined by a suspicious wetness as he gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath before he could even think about replying.

''Summer made a body promise with the Summer Child.''

It was stated with such a devastating finality that it completely overwhelmed Minho to the point where his mind went blank for a few moments, unable to make sense of the words.

A body promise?

He'd never heard of that, neither did he have any idea what it implied, and Autumn seemed to recognize his confusion, bringing a hand up to his head and sighing deeply.

''Winter, please tell me you aren't really that clueless.''

Minho didn't reply.

He'd never considered himself clueless, but he had to admit he found it weird how Autumn always seemed to know the mechanics and limits of the life they were leading, including what they were allowed to do and what not.

Maybe he also got his knowledge from the humans of the physical realm who were out a lot more than during his season, though he did wonder how _they_ would have knowledge about anything concerning the season's realm.

''I really don't know'', he finally settled on saying, causing Autumn to groan in frustration.

''Well, then _think_ about it. Summer made a body promise with the Summer Child and a sacred one with me by giving me his special name and you still don't see the problem?''

Wait.

The special name promise was a spiritual one, Minho knew that much just by thinking logically, and at the same time, the body promise was obviously a physical one, made in the realm they couldn't even trespass in most of the time.

Not to mention seasons didn't even belong in the physical realm and weren't meant to interact with the world too much, so he could imagine that making such a grave promise in that realm could lead to nothing but complications.

''Do... do _the gods_ know?''

A pointless question.

Of course they did. They knew everything.

They held full control over the seasons after all, probably watching the two of them right now as well.

Autumn's expression abruptly changed from frustration back to anger, the seething flare back in his eyes as he huffed.

The wind picked up around them, messing Minho's hair up and blowing the strands into his face, but he didn't really register it over the sounding pounding in his head.

''Of course they do! They're unbelievably angry at _all_ of us, but it's the worst with Summer. What if they're erasing him from existence alltogether because of this? Who does he even think he is, going against _the gods_ like this... That fucking idiot Chan!''

_Chan._

Summer's special name.

It had been spat out so carelessly, disdainfully that it actually caused Minho to wince and he turned to Autumn, the horror that was written all over his face mirroring the other season's expression as he brought a hand up to clamp over his mouth. But it was too late.

He had disrespectfully spoken out another season's special name and Minho had an inkling that _the gods_ didn't like that all that much as something flashed blindingly white in the sky above them.

Autumn was on his feet immediately, brown eyes wide and scared as they scanned the blue canvas, hoping to actually _see_ something.

''I didn't...'' His voice caught in his throat out of nervousness. He tried again. ''I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.''

He lowered himself to the ground on his knees, set on showing a desperate attempt to repent for his words as he folded his hands.

His rapid breathing was the only sound penetrating the silence and Minho was suddenly aware that not even the wind was present anymore.

That wasn't normal.

There was another flash in the sky, followed by thunder rolling over the world like a predator ready to attack and the sky darkened, an omen that there was no forgiving for a sin like this.

Well, maybe there would have been if _the gods_ hadn't already been agitated enough by Summer's behavior.

''No, please... I won't disrespect Summer again, I swear. I didn't mean it. I'm _sorry_.''

 _The gods_ didn't listen, they never really did, and in another terrible and consuming flash, lighting struck where Autumn was, hot and unforgiving even to Minho who could do nothing but back away as white heat exploded in front of him.

He didn't do well with hot temperatures, it wasn't in his nature after all, but leaving Autumn to his cruel fate felt like betrayal and it was stabbing at his insides.

 _The gods_ wouldn't kill him, it would be too much of a hassle to create a new season all over again because of something like this, however, the things they could do regardless were looming over Minho like a shadow and he had to close his eyes and count to ten to steady himself as a wave of nausea washed over him.

It was too hot.

The heat was licking greedily at his skin, almost burning it away, and he struggled to breathe, but luckily, that sensation didn't last long and the cold, his feeling of home, came back with so much force that it almost knocked him over.

When he dared to open his eyes after some more horrible moments of silence, the sky had cleared up again to a comforting blue and the mysterious flashes had disappeared.

But so had Autumn, only leaving behind a spot of scorched grass.

''I'm worried what's going to happen to Summer.'' Spring frowned, twirling the frosted daffodil between his shaking fingers. '' _The gods_ know he made a special name promise, he can't go back on it. But neither can he on that body promise, so I don't know how this is going to play out...''

Minho hummed in agreement from where he was lying face-up on the frozen lake's surface, not bothered at all by the cold that seeped into his body or the snowflakes descending from the grey sky with all the ferocity that was normally reserved for hail.

It was so late into his season and yet, it was awfully freezing still, not at all fitting weather for Spring to have appeared already.

He was shivering quite severely, but there was nothing Minho could do about it except have him be as far away from civilization as possible so time passed faster.

He would have liked to wonder what was even causing the weather to be like this in the first place, but the thing was, he already knew the reason.

It was an indication that the Winter Child was nearby, probably just off in the next village, and while Minho normally would have bolted at the chance, he remained where he was this time, wanting to spend the little time he had with Spring.

After that little talk with Autumn, he wasn't really feeling up to trying to find the Winter Child, afraid that he would hurt Spring the same way that Summer had hurt Autumn.

The image of that flash of lighting consuming Autumn and of the other season's horrorstricken expression still felt so fresh in his mind and imagining Spring to be on the receiving end of _the gods'_ wrath was horrible, causing his heart to contract painfully in his chest as soon as he gazed at the other smiling down so fondly at his frozen flower.

He could find so much joy in the simplest of things that it was endearing.

''Hey, Winter?''

Spring wasn't looking up from the daffodil, but he was clearly addressing him, so Minho heaved himself into a sitting position, indicating that he was paying attention.

In this position it was even more apparent that Spring was trembling, goosebumps littering his arms and teeth chattering, and Minho wished, not for the first time, that he could do something to ease the cold a little.

It was awful that he was so content with this temperature while Spring looked moments away from collapsing, even if that wasn't exactly possible.

''Yes?'' He reached out for the other's warm hand, gently squeezing his fingers as a sort of feeble reassurance. ''I promise it'll be over soon. Just stay strong a little longer. And don't worry, Summer will be alright.''

''I know, I know'', Spring mumbled, finally meeting Minho's gaze only to immediately avert it again, obviously catching on to the affection that his eyes must have held. ''But why aren't you searching for the Winter Child? Didn't you want to meet him as soon as possible?''

Well, he couldn't deny that, so he simply shrugged, waiting until Spring glanced at him again to flash a shy smile, hoping it would get the message across.

''I do, but I've chosen not to look for him this cycle.''

Spring looked like he was about to retort something, but after a moment of consideration, he just flung himself into Minho's arms, the sudden warmth startling, but not unwelcome.

The other season's arms looped around his neck in what humans called a _hug_ and his head came to rest on Minho's shoulder while snow kept falling around them, coating the both of them in a layer of the pretty powder.

Minho found his heartbeat matching up with Spring's, wild and nervous and unaquainted with the feeling spreading through his body and even if Spring was surely still cold, all that escaped him was a sigh of relief when he felt Minho's arms coming to rest on his back.

''Thank you.''

Spring's warm breath tickled his ear and one of his arms momentarily left his neck, sending sparks through Minho's body when it settled back into place.

A swarm of purple butterflies flew up, struggling against the falling snow that was luckily starting to cease and Minho watched them in amazement, making no move to disrupt their flight as they circled around both their heads, leaving little butterfly kisses on Spring before fluttering off into the afternoon.

Spring really was the epitome of life.

Minho noticed his grip growing weaker all of a sudden, his strength draining quickly, wanting to lull him off to the nothingness and Spring seemed to realize that as well for he adjusted his hold on him so he wouldn't crash to the ground.

There were unspoken words hanging in the air between them, alongside unspoken feelings that threatened to jump out of his chest, but he ignored them in favor of gently stroking Spring's back and choking out the all too familiar words that had long since become their source of comfort.

''I'll see you around, Spring.''

Hesitation. A shaky breath.

And Minho knew what he was trying to do.

''You can-''

''No'', he interrupted right away, weakly shaking his head as he felt himself drifting. ''Not right now.''

Saying a season's special name for the first time was a moment of utter vulnerability and a promise they had no chance of going back on, a promise that might do them more harm than good if committed to without proper contemplation.

It was special for a reason.

And he didn't want to make the same mistake as Summer.

''Okay'', Spring agreed, although with a slightly bitter tone to his words.

Minho felt sorry for making him wait, but he knew he simply wasn't ready yet.

''See you around, Winter.''

He was gently placed down, Spring's hair tickling his neck as he leaned over him to whisper something into his ear once more, a temporary promise until Minho was ready to commit to the real one.

Come next cycle, Minho was off to the village after Autumn had left, a strong snowfall obstructing his view and the wind howling around him as he was determined to comply with the request Spring had made.

He hadn't spoken more than two words with Autumn during their threshold time, being waved away by the other season whenever he had tried to come near, but he did look better than during the previous cycle, so Minho assumed that Summer had dodged a hard sentence. 

How he had managed to do that, he had no clue, but in the end it didn't concern him anyway, so he did his best to chase all thoughts concerning Summer out of his head and solely concentrate on finding the Winter Child.

He was well aware that this sort of weather mostly kept people in their houses, tucked away under blankets and with a warm fireplace in front of them, but from his own experience, he knew that the Winter Children defied that unspoken rule, more often than not feeling drawn to be outside in the cold weather at all times.

The snow crunched under Minho's steps as he strode along the paths, letting his intuition guide him wherever it wanted, past all the crumbling and unstable houses and the animals that roamed along these paths freely, crossing his way like everyone else, unaware of his presence.

Most of the time, it didn't make a difference to him if he was out on the lake or amidst civilization, for the paths that had children playing on them in Spring and fields that Autumn told him were rich with harvest during his season were both empty this time around, giving off the impression that the entire village was deserted.

Here and there he caught sight of flickering candlelight behind windows where adults were still up and about their business – whatever that might include – but for the most part the village was shrouded in darkness during this early evening.

He'd been around here plenty of times, so he practically knew the village like the back of his hand, yet he still had problems remembering which human lived where or if a house was even inhabited at all because of how seldom he had the chance to see one of them leaving their home.

He was pretty sure the house at the corner belonged to an elderly woman who believed in the existence of fae or elves that were supposed to be living in the forest.

Spring knew her as well because she always sat in front of her house with her grandson and talked about these fantastical things that neither of the seasons had a solid grasp on.

To the right was a path that led towards the open fields, the tiny home on the right housing a sheepherder who had his heart in the right place, but hadn't really been blessed by luck, his sight deteriorating further and further as the cycles went on and his voice lost to the illness that kept haunting him.

A bit further down the same path, away from most of the other houses in the village, lived a group of young adults, all on their own from what Minho could tell, and as far as Spring had told him, there were rumors that the household contained witches.

The village truly held an interesting bunch.

Minho made a turn to the left, finding himself in front of the village's market place and almost instantly, his ears picked up a faint hum originating from the middle of the place where a lonely well was stood amidst a flock of deserted stalls.

A boy with vibrant dark blue hair was sitting on the well's edge, sketching something on a piece of parchment with utmost concentration and as Minho stepped closer, he could see that the boy didn't wear any protection from the cold, only a dirtied and slightly torn blouse that told of hard work and pants that barely went over his knees.

He should have been freezing in this weather, yet he didn't shiver the slightest, appearing just as unbothered as Minho himself, and there was a reason for that.

The boy was the Winter Child.

He looked just like Spring had described him.

Minho thought at first that Spring had made an exaggeration when he had compared the boy to one of the squirrels that flitted the forest, but the closer he got, the more he found himself agreeing with that comparison and by the time he had reached the well and could really _see_ those squishy, protruding cheeks, he was pretty sure that this was, in fact, the only correct way to describe him.

The boy glanced up as he noticed Minho approaching and for a split second, caution and apprehension flashed in his blue eyes, but that evaporated the moment Minho held out his hand and willed a palm-sized snowflake to appear in his hand, a gift he always gave to the Winter Child.

Wonder appeared in the boy's eyes and he reached out to take the snowflake from Minho, turning it around as if to check if it was real.

''Are you...'', he started, momentarily breaking off when Minho sat down next to him on the well. ''Are you the one the voices in my dreams told me about?''

''Yes.'' He smiled at the boy. ''I am Winter.''


	2. And So Do We

Jisung had always known that he was inherently different from others.

He had been born into the world with a different hair color than everyone else around him, a blue so vibrant that not even nature supplied this particular shade, and of course this had drawn quite the attention.

People had called him _witch,_ pointing at him and excluding him from the very beginning, claiming they were safer off not being around him.

Despite this, his parents had always had his back, denying any and all connection to witchcraft and even setting out into other villages to ask medics and wise elders for a way to change his hair color into something more natural.

Something that wasn't as out of place as he was.

They had brought home mixtures and ointments and prayers from their trips, probably having exchanged a lot of their hard earned money to get their hands on them, yet nothing had worked on him.

Jisung remembered crying a little more every time his parents had silently summed up their earnings in their bedroom, realizing there were once again short on pence because of him and could therefore not afford enough food to comfortably get them through the winter.

Nonetheless, they always made sure he was well fed, even if it came at the expense of their own hunger, and Jisung was forever grateful to have such caring guardians.

Even if the food was never enough for a growing child such as him, his appetite was sated purely from the love he received, the warm cuddles as his mother wiped away his tears of loneliness and the times his father would take him out for fishing a few villages away, so that they could enjoy some quality time together.

His childhood was predictably lonely, no one daring to approach him or even do so much as glance at him for longer than three seconds, afraid that he was going to incinerate them right where they stood or do whatever else they believed he could do, a lot of their fantasies involving fire for some reason.

The irony of it was that Jisung couldn't even be _near_ fire without immediately heating up to the point of becoming dizzy and weak, almost as if he was suffering from a heat stroke.

Hot weather or direct exposure to the summer sun in general was pretty hard on his body, resulting in excessive sweating and almost passing out in the middle of taking a walk or during fishing whenever he didn't account for a sudden change in temperature.

One time he did pass out at the lake his father always took him to, more or less gracefully toppling over into the cool water that had immediately drawn him back to consciousness, cradling him in its comfortable embrace and protecting him from the suffocating heat.

_''Oh my god, Jisung! Are you okay?''_

He remembered his father's arms heaving him out of the pleasant cold back into his less than pleasant surroundings and he'd almost lost consciousness out once more as his body struggled to accomodate to the warmer temperatures.

His parents were never able to grasp just how much damage the heat did to his body, but they had written it off as an illness he had started contracting, once again scraping their remaining pence together in order to find a cure for him. But there was none.

They travelled almost across the entire country, chasing every little hope that was given to them, but at the end of their journey they stood as empty-handed as before, maybe even more due to their lack of ressources, and had to find a temporary abode some villages away, unable to make the trip back.

The guilt gnawed at Jisung every night, one half of him wanting to get better and lead a normal life and the other intent on stopping his parents from spending pence for something that could never be changed.

Because deep down, he knew he couldn't be _healed_ from whatever was causing him to be like this because it simply wasn't an illness.

It was who he was.

So when he started hearing voices in his dreams, whispering to him that there was something, some _one_ who was meant to find him, he kept quiet about it, sparing his parents additional headaches from trying to find out how to get rid of _that_ as well.

They stayed in that village for a longer period of time, unable to earn enough pence to build up a reasonable supply of food for their trip back, but Jisung didn't mind because that village was the one where he found his first genuine friend after he had spent a majority of his life in isolation.

He remembered that they met in spring, the sun not yet too warm for him to seek shelter all the time, but still warm enough for the boy to be able to go outside without getting a frostbite.

Because the boy, as it turned out, was exactly like him, yet at the same time nothing like him because whereas Jisung craved and embraced the cold, the boy basically lived for the sun's light and the scorching summer heat.

They were different extremes with the same essence.

Winter and summer, whose only two playgrounds were spring and autumn.

The first thing Jisung had noticed of the boy had been his hair, a vibrant orange shade that reminded him of the leaves in autumn, but was so different from it that it didn't feel like a fitting comparison.

Either way, it was unusual and his heart had made a jump in his chest at the prospect that there could be other people just like him out there.

_''Hey!''_

Looking back, he could admit that shouting hadn't been the best option to make in that situation, especially since the boy had been in deep thought, carrying two buckets of water he had gotten from the well in the middle of the market.

Upon hearing Jisung, he had dropped both of them and taken off into the other direction, probably believing Jisung to be one of the King's guards who were tasked with finding and burning witches at the stake.

He had later learnt from the boy that his village was known for hiding witches, hence why the guards subjected them to sudden visits, sometimes even lining them up to filter out those that looked suspicious.

Jisung wasn't really used to that, having never experienced something like this in his village, but the couple of weeks he had spent with the boy had made him realize that not everyone was as lucky as him to be left alone.

The next time he had seen the boy around had been the time he had introduced himself, making sure to have the boy see him first before he had even attempted to make communication.

_''Hey.''_

The wave he had given had been awkward and stiff, but the boy hadn't minded it too much, gaze fixed on Jisung's hair as if he had never seen something like it. He probably hadn't.

_''Are you... like me?''_

_''Yes.''_

The boy's eyes had lightened up and he had approached Jisung, offering his hand that had radiated warmth, uncomfortable but not quite as intense as being exposed to the sun, so after a second of contemplation, he had taken it, startling the boy who had not expected the sudden coldness.

_''I'm Jisung.''_

_''Felix. Nice to meet you.''_

And it really had been nice to meet someone who could understand him in all the right ways and simultaneously all the wrong ways because Jisung could never fully grasp how the boy curled up during winter, hiding away and shivering while he was outside enjoying the snow, and in a similar manner, Felix was confused when Jisung couldn't do so much as leave his house during the hottest days of summer while he rolled around on the fields.

But it was okay, they always worked around this issue, meeting up in spring and autumn between their two villages on some fields and every now in a while, Jisung invited Felix over to his place, introducing him to all the nice people in his village.

Years had gone by like this, their friendship only blossoming inbetween talks about the mysterious voices in their dreams and curious cuddles to explore the other's natural body temperature more, but it all came to a grinding halt when Felix suddenly met the one who was supposed to find him.

It had been summer, so Jisung hadn't really been able to leave his home much without fearing to get burned to a crisp, the heat during this summer more extreme than he was used to, but he had met Felix in the autumn that followed after on their usual field.

And while the boy had come as soon as the first days of autumn had come around, Jisung had noticed that he hadn't been alone this time.

A young man had trailed behind him, face turned towards the sun as if he was basking in the last light of summer and blonde strands falling into his face, a few blue streaks contrasting starkly with the light tone of his hair.

There had been an almost ethereal aura surrounding him, telling Jisung he was probably a higher force of some kind, and the blue in his hair only seemed to confirm that, the unnatural color having been a familiar and comforting sight to him.

What _hadn't been_ comforting, however, had been the sensation creeping up his spine the closer the stranger got to him, a heavy pounding starting to form in his head, followed by a rapid plodding in his chest and the painful cramps of his muscles.

_Hot._

The fiery orb in the sky had burned down on him with renewed energy and the guy in front of him had been like another glaring sun trying to reduce him to ashes, heat radiating off him ten times worse than what he was used to from Felix.

It had exceeded far beyond the point of _too much_ and his head had let him know by distorting his vision and summoning nausea to claw its way up his throat.

At this point, Felix had realized that Jisung really wasn't feeling well and he had motioned for the stranger to stay back, slowly advancing towards his friend, knowing that Jisung could handle his heat.

Except this time he couldn't.

This time, he had been completely overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of intensity, skin flushing worse than even during the hottest times in summer and sweat rolling down his body like tiny waterfalls as he had willed the other boy to go away.

Too much. It had been too much.

_''Felix, stay back.''_

Jisung couldn't understand how even the stranger's _voice_ had radiated so much damn _heat_ , but he hadn't had the time to question it, suddenly doubling over and emptying his stomach on the grass.

So hot. He had been so hot.

His own breathing had been loud in his ears, shallow and way too fast and he had noticed himself swaying on his feet, almost on the verge of passing out, but still conscious enough to catch the stranger's next words and the sound of retreating footsteps as Felix had been pulled away from him.

_''He can't handle you right now, Lixie.''_

_''Why?''_

_''He is the Winter Child.''_

As someone who was used to having time pass him in the blink of an eye, Minho felt as if the time, the _days,_ he spent next to Jisung were ticking away at an agonizingly slow pace, stirring up a deep-rooted restlessness that he didn't even know he possessed before he committed himself to this.

He always liked to view himself as a person, an _entity_ , that held an inner tranquility no matter the situation, but it was easy to label himself as such when there wasn't an actual instance that would have called for an evaluation of his words.

 _Personality_ , Jisung had called it, having looked properly offended by Minho's claim that he wasn't in need of these humanly things.

The boy wasn't the first Winter Child he had met, in fact, the first one had been a boy with equally black hair as Minho had and a _personality_ that had simply been too much for him after a while, the boy having eaten away at his energy a lot more than what was usual.

Even though it was perhaps a little mean, he had actually been relieved when the boy had passed away after merely nine cycles, leaving Minho without a Winter Child at all for the remaining 72 cycles.

It wasn't unusual for humans to die before they had reached 30 cycles, _years,_ as Jisung would later correct him, which usually worked in the season's favor because they didn't have as much time to get attached to the Season Children and commit to the sin that was the body promise.

Except Summer apparently.

But Summer seemed to be the kind of entity, _person_ , that was too passionate to hold back on the humanly urges that surfaced as long as they were in contact with the physical world.

Minho wondered if the people of the physical realm considered the body promise a sin as much as _the gods_ did, especially since they didn't seem to even be aware of the realm the seasons resided in.

They were aware of _some_ realm, a spiritual place called _heaven_ that was inhabited by a god, but he doubted that this was the place where the seasons were because he had never seen a god in that realm.

It was only him, Spring, Summer and Autumn. That was it.

Deciding to ask Jisung further about the mechanisms of his world, he turned to the boy who was kneeling next to him on the snowy ground, piling up snow into balls that he stacked on top of each other. Strange.

''Jisung?''

Jisung glanced up from his work, slightly tilting his head to show that he was listening even as he kept pressing the snow into another little ball.

''What is it, hyung?''

Hyung. Yet another term Minho couldn't wrap his head around, no matter how many times he was addressed like this.

He found the word impossible to pronounce, even with his knowledge of the worldly language and it both frustrated and intrigued him that he couldn't figure out its meaning by himself.

''Why do you keep calling me that?'', he questioned, causing Jisung to laugh quietly as he turned the ball of snow in his hands, obviously thinking what to do with it.

''It's a term of endearment,'' Jisung explained, seemingly choosing his words carefully, not wanting to further confuse him with any additional vocabulary. ''It means we are close to each other.''

He paused for a moment, a shy expression suddenly appearing in his eyes as he scratched his neck.

It was... _cute_.

''We _are_ close, right, hyung?''

Minho was always close with Winter Children, if he wanted to or not because they were bound to him and he was bound to them, only able to exist outside of his season because of them, so he didn't even hesitate to nod, watching Jisung's face break out into a mischievous smile.

''Good because then I won't have any hesitation to do _this_!''

Before Minho could even register the words properly, something hit him in the face and he heard Jisung's laughter as the boy jumped up.

''Snowball fight!!''

Minho wiped the snow on his face away in confusion, not understanding the weird tradition, yet he didn't get the chance to ask as another snowball exploded on his cheek.

It didn't particularly hurt, nor was it really uncomfortable since he was used to the cold anyway, so he didn't see the point in what the boy was doing, jumping around a short distance away from him before bending down and hurriedly scooping up some more snow.

As soon as he had a reasonable sized ball, he threw it towards Minho once more, but this time, he was prepared for the attack, willing his shield of ice into existence with a quick movement.

Jisung gasped at the display of his powers, momentarily startled enough for Minho to form a snowball of his own and flinging it over to where the boy was, successfully hitting him straight in the face.

The sight of Jisung's face completely buried under the snow was an odd one and it was enough to produce a giggle from him as he watched the other wipe across his face, trying to rid himself off the powdery substance stuck to it.

''That's unfair!'', he declared with a pout. ''You used your magical powers!''

Minho let a sly smile play on his lips as he shrugged, already piling up some more snow with his left hand.

''Too bad you don't have any powers, isn't it?''

Jisung caught sight of what he was doing, scrambling to make a weapon of his own, but still looking up defiantly once he was done, quick enough to dodge the snowball Minho threw at him.

''Cheat all you want, justice always prevails!'', he announced, puffing out his cheeks like the squirrel he was as he got ready to charge. ''I will still win, you'll see!''

Jisung did not, in fact, win.

He didn't stand a chance against Minho's shields, unable to find an opening that would leave him vulnerable against any attacks, not even as Minho decided to play fair through and through, having taking pity on Jisung's clothes that were collecting piles upon piles of snow, as well as the boy himself whose coordination was severely hindered by all the snow on his face that refused to melt due to his naturally cold body temperature.

By the end of it, both of them collapsed into the snow, Jisung because of exhaustion and Minho because of solidarity.

Nothing he did ever put strain on his body, but he felt bad leaving Jisung panting and gasping for breath on his own, so he flopped down next to him, carefully wiping the rest of the snow from his face while the other beamed up at him as if today had been the most fun he'd had in a while.

It probably had been.

''We should do this again, hyung'', he commented, closing his eyes and moving closer to Minho to nuzzle his head into his chest.

Minho hummed, content for the time being as he let his fingers graze through the boy's hair, marveling at the lack of ice he left behind.

It was different to the times he stroked Spring's hair, the other season's hair almost always adorned with icy crystals and sparkling whenever Minho looked at them, just like Spring's eyes always sparkled with fondness.

He missed Spring.

But he had a promise to fulfill.

He lovingly ruffled Jisung's hair, equal parts wanting to keep the boy awake and genuinely craving to touch his hair a little more, the blue strands fascinating and a contrast to the white scenery surrounding them.

''I'm all yours, but for now you should probably go home. Don't worry your parents.''

Jisung cracked one eye open, gaze slightly delirious and sleepy as he gripped at the blouse Minho was wearing.

''Aren't you coming with me? I'm sure they'd like to meet you too.''

''It's still the middle of winter, they can't see me yet. You can introduce me once spring comes.''

Even though he had already experienced how it felt staying in the physical realm, it was always something special in his mind, something he looked forward to after only knowing nothingness.

It was sort of like being reborn as a human without ever really committing to the full experience.

Minho couldn't die, unlike humans. He couldn't eat, unlike humans. He couldn't sleep, unlike humans. He couldn't _live,_ unlike humans.

But pretending every once in a while, that he could do.

''So no one can see you?'', Jisung repeated, suddenly much more awake as he sat up, looking at him with a certain sadness in his eyes. ''Isn't that lonely?''

Minho didn't know what to say to that. It was true.

It was unbelievably lonely, as much as it was cruel, and not for the first time he asked himself why _the gods_ had created them to be like this.

It wasn't his place to question them, but they didn't exactly make it easy to just follow their unspoken rules.

Maybe that was what had driven Summer to commit to the body promise, a rebellion against the forces that controlled them, an enraged outcry against the oppression they suffered, a sweet relief from the pain sparked by their loneliness.

Or maybe... just maybe, he really did develop feelings for the Summer Child.

Minho hoped he would get to ask him soon.

''You should go home'', he repeated and after some more disgruntled mumbling, Jisung indeed pushed himself up fully, throwing a last hopeful glance at Minho who remained on the snow-covered ground.

''I'll see you tomorrow, right, hyung?''

''I'm not going anywhere'', he simply replied, closing his eyes and letting another content smile show. ''So off you go. Hurry.''

There was another moment of hesitation, Jisung seemingly unwilling to part from him, but then a sigh and the sound of retreating footsteps informed Minho of the fact that the boy was on his way home.

And he was back to being lonely.

Well, slightly more lonely than before.

Days came and went, grazing past him much like the seasons and at the same time nothing like the seasons, for the rhythm they set was one so slow that Minho sometimes couldn't believe that days were passing at all.

He was lost to the routine of meeting up with Jisung on their field and just lazing away under the weak sun or a constant snowfall that would have had anyone else running inside for cover and while it wasn't necessarily that much different from what he had done before, it sure as hell _felt_ like he was subjecting himself to a new experience all over.

He had walked through the forest before, but never with Jisung continuously blabbering about anything and everything that came to his mind, explaining all these foreign traditions and interpersonal _relationships_ to him with as much patience as he could muster and Minho himself posed questions as much as he could be bothered to learn about the physical realm.

It varied from day to day, human emotions never quite consistent throughout a longer period of time, but the experience of a wavering mind was something he wouldn't trade even if he could.

He took Jisung out to the lake as well, his and Spring's favorite spot, inclined to let the boy be a part of the magic this place shared, but at the same time there was guilt gnawing at him for letting someone else trespass.

As the threshold time came up, he actively sought out the spot almost every day, hoping to find Spring there as a desire to talk to him again had spiked in his chest, yet he could never find the other season, no matter if he went with or without Jisung.

It was one of those times where he had Jisung sitting next to him on the frozen lake, trying to look past the layer of ice for the fishes that were whizzing below the surface, that he decided to ask a question that had been blooming in his heart for a while now.

''Jisung?''

''Hm?'', came the immediate reply, the boy turning his gaze away from the red fish he had been watching to pay attention to Minho.

Minho didn't know if his question was appropriate or even answerable, but he figured he never knew unless he tried. So he tried.

''Do you know what a body promise is?''

There was moment of complete silence, the smile on Jisung's face fading away into nothingness and his gaze going blank in a forceful attempt to show as little reaction to the question as possible, but that reaction alone told Minho all he needed to know.

Jisung knew.

And from the looks of it, it was probably a very uncomfortable topic for human society.

He almost considered waving his question off and diverting Jisung's attention elsewhere, but all words caught in his throat as he watched the other nervously lick his lips, barely able to maintain eye contact as his cheeks heated up.

''W-why are you asking, hyung?''

There was an underlying panic in his voice and it suddenly dawned on Minho that Jisung most likely thought he had brought the topic up because he wanted to actually _make_ a body promise with him.

''No, no, it's not like that!'', he quickly clarified, relieved when Jisung visibly relaxed. ''It's just that... Summer committed to a body promise and I want to know what it is. Can you tell me?''

Jisung's eyes widened, shock replacing the previous embarrassment as his mind made the connection so abruptly that it caused his body to jolt, a suspicious crack coming from the rather thin layer of ice at the sudden movement.

''Summer? The guy Felix was with? Does that mean he-...'' He broke off, unsure of his own conclusion as he searched for Minho's gaze. ''Did he... Did they... together?''

Minho nodded, watching with a strange mix of confusion and sympathy how Jisung immediately dissolved into useless rambles and tears in front of him, clearly scared for Felix.

His _friend_.

''By the heavens, why did he do that...? The Church is going to kill him... the _King_ is going to kill him... Why would he go against them? Why would he put himself on a silver platter like this just for one guy? And it's not even a real human, it's a _season..._ He has a deathwish... He actually has a deathwish...''

So a body promise was a big deal for the physical realm as well, otherwise Jisung wouldn't be reacting like this, and it only fueled Minho's curiosity even more as he reached out for the boy's shoulders, trying to get him to calm down to no avail.

''Jisung, breathe.''

''Hyung, they're going...'' He shook his head, hiccups interrupting his shaky sentence halfway through. ''They're going to kill him for this.''

''But why?'', Minho pushed, dissatisfied about his lack of grasp on this situation. He couldn't _understand._

He pulled Jisung closer to his body, the boy instantly clinging to him and burying his head in his chest, sobs racking his body.

There was no way he was going to get an answer out of him any time soon.

Minho sighed, rubbing soothing circles on Jisung's back and watching the clouds make their journey across the azure sky, their movements as sluggish as every day in this world felt.

He missed his own realm.

But he had a promise to fulfill.

It felt like an eternity until the body in his arms started moving again, still heaving with silent sobs, but seeming a lot more collected now that he got it out of his system.

''When...''

Jisung's voice was muffled against his chest and Minho strained to hear him, but made no effort to push him away to understand better. He liked the feeling of _someone_ against him.

''When did they... partake of... each other?''

Huh?

Where did _partake of each other_ come from?

He didn't know what that meant. As so often when he didn't know, he lightly tapped Jisung's shoulder and the boy let out an unstable sigh.

''The body promise'', he repeated. ''When did they...?''

''About three cycles ago.''

''You mean... three _years_?''

There was incredulity lacing his voice and he separated from Minho, a big portion of his anguish suddenly blown away with the wind.

''This long ago?''

Long?

For Minho, three cycles, _years,_ passed in the blink of an eye because in his realm, the concept of time paled besides the infinity of cycles that still laid before them.

Three years wasn't even measurable on the scale he acted on.

But if it gave Jisung comfort to know that this event lay three years in the past already without anything happening, he gladly played into that relief and the hope that bloomed from it.

''Yes, this long ago. So there's really nothing to worry about, they're both going to be fine.''

Oh, if only Minho had known how not fine they were going to be.

Spring was beautiful.

Of course, this discovery wasn't unexpected, not when he had already caught glimpses of what Spring did to the physical world whenever they met at the threshold of their seasons, but somehow, the flowers were a lot prettier when they weren't buried under snow, the wind was a lot warmer without his presence, the earth was sprouting with new life more enthusiatically when the last days of winter weren't holding them back.

It was unfamiliar to not be dragged off into the nothingness, unfamiliar to feel the sun prickling his skin and unfamiliar to realize that he really had become a part of this world and could touch and interact with people that weren't Jisung, but he embraced these changes with all the joy they brought with them.

Jisung had introduced him to his parents as the first genuine day of spring had come around and the relief on their faces at the prospect of someone else having that _strange heat disease_ was probably going to stay etched into Minho's mind forever.

He hadn't really stopped to think about how Season Children were perceived by their environment, how they were most likely excluded from normal life, called sick for their abnormal body temperature or even accused of being witches because of their hair.

Ultimately, _the gods_ decided on how the Season Children looked, so there was little Minho could do – as always – but that didn't stop him from pitying Jisung as the boy showed him around their measly home, going on and on about how this was already his second time that a friend was visiting him and that he was overjoyed that Minho was going to stay at his place.

When Jisung's parents had first offered for him to live with them, it had thrown Minho off quite a bit, especially since he wasn't used to lingering in the same spot for an extended amount of time, always strolling around the fields or even just watching the stars whenever the humans withdrew to their quarters to comply with their humanly needs for sleep.

He didn't need that, so he had feared he would only be a disturbance in this household, yet Jisung had pushed and begged for him to stay, repeatedly stressing that it was only natural for them to stick together as much as possible, and of course Minho had caved in, accepting his fate as it was.

Jisung's bedroom, the place where he was supposed to be resting at night, wasn't huge by any means, supporting Minho's presumption that his family didn't have a lot of... currency? He wasn't in touch with the way humans exchanged their goods – because why would he? – but he faintly recalled having seen some sort of _coins_ before, so he guessed that was what they used.

In any way, the bedroom only contained essentials, like a wooden bed in the middle with a cabinet next to it and a table with chairs off to the side where a few parchments lay neatly organized, presumably some work the boy had to finish.

Minho had grown accustomed to seeing those things after his incessant asking, the previous Winter Children explaining both what the use of these items was, as well as what they were called, and the vocabulary had never left him, seemingly imprinted in his consciousness for however long it was relevant.

The rest of Jisung's home was in a similar state as his bedroom, nothing particularly valuable to be found anywhere, but nonetheless, it housed a content and loving family, the warmth and smiles comparable to what he received from Spring.

He missed Spring's smile.

But he had a promise to fulfill.

''What do you do the whole day?''

The question just spilled from his lips one day as they were walking towards the lake Jisung liked to fish in, the boy having invited him to try it out as well, not even waiting for his reply before shoving _something_ into his hand and excitedly chattering about how much fish he was going to catch today.

''What?'' Jisung seemed taken aback by the question for a moment, his rant about fish coming to an abrupt and premature end. ''Oh, I concentrate on my study a lot. During harvest periods, I help my parents with their work, but most of the time, there is not really something to do. There are a lot of holidays enforced by the Church, though, so I try and see where I can support the celebrations, but not many even want my help because...''

He made a gesture towards his hair. Minho understood.

Jisung could have had such an average, peaceful life, but of course _the gods_ wouldn't allow that, instead electing him to be a Season Child and putting him through the subsequent isolation and rejection. It wasn't fair.

''Is there something special _you_ do, hyung?'', came the immediate counter question and Minho frowned as he tried to come up with an answer, unsure how he was going to relay the information to Jisung that their worlds weren't really something that could be compared like this.

However, before he could come up with something to say, Jisung suddenly stilled beside him, seemingly listening for something, and as he did the same, he could faintly make out cheering and applause from further down the dirt path they were wandering on, right where the next village was coming into sight.

''That's Felix's village'', Jisung whispered next to him, not even attempting to hide the fear that had crawled into his body. ''Hyung, that's Felix's village.''

Minho wasn't sure where the boy was getting at.

''And this means...?'', he carefully questioned, watching Jisung's muscles tense as if he was getting ready to sprint the rest of the way, as if there was some urgent reason why he absolutely _had_ to be in the village.

Sweat was starting to form on his forehead despite it still being completely bearable in terms of heat today and Minho wondered if the boy perhaps had precognition of a future event that he himself had no idea about.

''Hyung... Something's not right.''

He was truly an enigma.

Jisung's distraught gaze found Minho's, an unspoken agreement manifesting between them in the matter of seconds, as they both tossed the _things_ in their hands to the side and took off running towards the village.

They were welcomed by cheers, but horrifyingly enough, screams of desperation had mixed into the muddle of voices and noises, and Minho was pretty sure his heart stopped for a moment as a rush of heat hit him, his mind recognizing a certain voice among all the others.

It had been a while since he had last heard it, but there was no denying it.

Summer.

Summer was here.

And that meant things were about to considerably heat up to the point that it wasn't safe for them to go near.

Heat expanded. Cold contracted.

''Jisung, it'll get too hot, we can't-'', he tried, but the boy's only response was harshly grabbing his arm and pulling Minho with him anyway, his mind set on one goal only as they made their way towards the market place. Finding Felix.

The cheers continuously gained intensity as they drew nearer, but so did the anguished screams and the heat that creeped up Minho's back, reminding him that he was going to be very close to the one season he should never have to be close to.

It went against his very nature to keep pushing towards the warmth and he could tell it was probably similar for Jisung, the boy's shaky and sweaty hand on his arm, reveling in the cold that was Minho, feeling at least a little braver with him here.

The market place was bursting with people, young and old alike gathered around an elevated platform in the middle where a heavily dressed guard stood, seemingly waiting for something as he turned an axe in his hands, examining if it was sharp enough.

Another rush of heat overwhelmed Minho, despite the ice that settled in his stomach at the scene, matching the picture in front of him up with an all too familiar event he had unwillingly been a spectator to before.

 _Public execution_ is what the humans called it.

''No, no, no, NO!''

Jisung was getting visibly agitated, scanning the faces in the crowd for any sign of Felix as he fought his way through the masses of people who barely reacted to the panicked squirrel flitting through their rows.

The spring sun, normally gently caressing Minho's skin and leaving little kisses on it, had turned into a red flaming orb in the sky, relentlessly burning down on them as the clouds were fleeing the pure, unfiltered rage of a season.

''Unhand me immediately! Don't you dare touch him!''

Minho could hear Summer's growl as clear as day, could almost _feel_ the hatred and disdain dripping from his voice, but he couldn't make out where the other season was, the pesants swaying from side to side hindering his view.

''Felix! Felix!!''

Jisung shoved a few spectators to the side with a strength Minho wouldn't have thought him to be capable of, but the adrenaline that was burning in his veins, coupled with the fear for his friend was probably overwhelming right now and his primary source of energy to keep going.

Because Minho honestly couldn't understand what else kept Jisung on his feet right now, their surroundings suffocatingly hot and the world seemingly ablaze.

The sky was gradually turning from a light blue to a threatening orange, a finalizing shadow falling over the place that did nothing to ease the heat that made Minho's vision swim.

This was no place for him to be.

''I will burn this entire place to the ground and with it all of you empty-headed people!''

There was another screech, pained and enraged, but it was drowned out by the crowd's deafening cheers as the subject of their condemnation was dragged out of the Church where the priests had made him repent beforehand.

Not that it mattered to the hungry onlookers, all of them starving for death, demanding the boy who was hauled towards the platform to be executed with all the shameless cheerfulness that only humans could summon from the dephts of their souls.

To the boy's credit, he was noticeably calm, his judgemental gaze wandering over the crowd as if damning any and all of them to be dragged through hell's gates into the flames of a purgatory that would never give them relief from their sins.

His orange hair was mirrored by the color of the sky, though Minho noticed that it was wet, the priests having doused the boy in holy water to cleanse him off the filth that they believed stuck to both his body and soul.

Jisung hiccuped next to him and when Minho turned to him, he noticed the tear tracks streaming down Jisung's face, as well as his unfocused gaze that was desperately trying to catch Felix's attention.

He was trembling, the intense heat getting to him just as much as it did to Minho, but neither of them could leave, unable to turn their back to such a cruelty.

''Felix...''

As if he had heard it, Felix's eyes met Jisung's, momentarily losing their hard glare for a regretful glance that begged for forgiveness, and Jisung nodded wildly, understanding the silent question, before he flung himself into Minho's arms, weeping into his chest.

Minho didn't know what to do other than stroke the boy's head, making eye contact with Felix and slightly bowing to the other male as a gesture of respect and admiration for not losing his temper even when he was looking death right in the face.

''Lee Felix.''

The executioner's voice was loud, unforgiving, making Jisung flinch in his arms and Minho slowly moved his hands down from the boy's head to his ears, wanting to block as much of what was going to happen as possible.

''Hyung, no'', he immediately protested, voice insultingly weak and bordering delirium. ''We have to...''

The rest of his words was lost to the excited screams of people as they called for Felix to repent and Summer's agony as he was held down somewhere Minho couldn't see from his position.

''Lee Felix, by demand of the Crown and His Majesty, as well as the Church, you are to be executed for sodomy and witchcraft.''

Felix listened to the sentence he had most likely already expected, for there was no change to his posture, still standing tall and proud with his head held high in the scorching heat.

Nobody really thought he was going to speak up, after all he wasn't _meant_ to do anything other than repent and beg miserably for his life in a feeble attempt to convince the executioner to not go through with killing him.

But he did speak, silencing the nosy spectators with a flick of his hand before his arms were forcefully grabbed and tied behind his back.

''A spark neglected makes a mighty fire and I will envelop everything in my flames of hatred.''

He let his deliberate gaze wander over the crowd of people, once again seeming to reach into their very soul and unearth the ugliest part of themselves that they had hidden behind lock and key.

They all knew they were sending yet another innocent boy to his death in their greed for blood, severing the earthly ties he had made and now even the unearthly ones.

Minho wondered if this was _the gods'_ way of seeking revenge on Summer for committing to the body promise. He wouldn't put it past them to use the Season Children as a means of enforcing their rules and nothing more.

Felix closed his eyes and drew a controlled breath, steadying himself for his imminent death.

The executioner pulled out a piece of fabric, using it to blindfold the boy before he sent him on his knees with a harsh push, retrieving his axe from where he had placed it on the ground.

Minho tightened his grip on Jisung, the other barely conscious, teetering between passing out and being at least somewhat receptive to the things happening around him.

Minho hoped he would pass out.

He didn't want him to see what would happen next because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that it wouldn't be a pretty sight.

None of the people currently occupying the market place would survive Summer's wrath, hell, he doubted anyone in the village would live to see another day.

It would have turned out like this anyway.

Minho had made peace with himself, with the fact that Summer would all but incinerate everyone present, including Jisung.

He didn't, _couldn't_ , blame him, not when he would have done the same thing too if he had been in this situation. Maybe even something worse.

''Chan.''

Felix had spoken again, seemingly having a few more words left that he wanted to dedicate to the one who had not necessarily sealed his fate, but accelerated it by a fair amount.

Minho did his best to listen, even if he couldn't properly make out much anymore with the continuous noise in his ears.

It was too hot.

He missed Spring.

''A little while and I'll be gone from you. But don't get this wrong, this is not a goodbye, this is a thank you. Thank you for coming into my life and giving me the joy of being able to be by your side and sharing our most intimate moments together. Thank you for loving me and receiving my love in return, even when the world points at us and accuses me of having lost my way. Thank you for the memories I will cherish forever, no matter where I will go. Because death is not goodbye. Not for us it isn't.''

He paused, listening for an answer from Summer only to receive sobs and incomprehensible rambling that none of the people present could comprehend. Not that it concerned them in the first place.

''I'm going to miss you, sunflower. Can you promise to find me in my next life?''

The executioner had stepped behind him by now and Felix seemed to sense that, falling silent to signal he was as ready as he could be as he hung his head, knowing it would make what was scheduled to happen easier.

Minho didn't look, he doubted he'd have the mental strength for that, but the sound of the executioner's axe hitting its mark and the heavy thuds that followed after – one right away, the other slightly time-delayed – was unmistakable.

He let out a stuttering breath, suddenly overwhelmed despite himself as he traced circles on Jisung's back, his body unresponding to the touches being a clear indication that the boy had passed out from the heat.

Minho slowly lowered him to the ground, uncaring that he was laying him to rest amidst all these foolish people. They wouldn't survive another minute anyway.

The red sun in the sky had expanded since the last time he had looked and it made him even more aware of the scorching heat as he straightened himself up, meeting Summer's gaze even with all these people between them.

He looked like a wreck, tears and marks of abuse alike painting his face as he heaved himself up to his feet as well, throwing a last sorrowful glance towards the platform before wiping at his eyes.

There were sparks in the air all around them, no doubt summoned by Summer himself, and with a hateful look at the sky and possibly _the gods_ themselves, the air was on fire.

The ground caught on fire moments later, eating up the people standing on it like a starving wolf, tearing them into bits, swallowing them into the earth from which they had come from.

Minho supposed there were screams, yet he couldn't hear them over the heat that invaded his every fiber, colliding with his essence and fighting with it for dominance over him.

Seasons couldn't actually kill each other, so he let it happen, watching with indifference how waves of flames roared after the few humans who had managed to initiate an attempt to flee from the hellish scene.

He had a hunch the fire wouldn't be satisfied for a long time though, even if it reduced them to nothing more than ashes.

''The sun's red fury will continue to burn.''

That day, not only the village burned to the ground, but almost one third of the _country_.

As seasons came and went, Minho realized just how fleeting human life really was.

Jisung had been nothing more than a flower on a field, enjoyable and pretty to look at from afar, but withering quickly as soon as he plucked it.

He could chase the bliss on the endless field that was the world, maybe commit to the same promise as Summer by crossing _countries_ and _seas_ just to spend time with the Season Child he had given his heart and body to in another life, but that was just asking for heartbreak in the long run.

Because as seasons came and went, Felix was reborn as a Winter Child and then an Autumn Child and then a Spring Child, leaving Summer to stare sadly at something he couldn't have.

Minho wasn't going to put himself through that.

Maybe, in another life, in another timeline, he would have taken the pain and the heartbreak and endured the waiting simply for a single moment with Jisung, but in this life and this timeline, he had chosen a different path for himself.

The path of eternity.

The path of Spring.

''See you around, Spring.''

Minho liked spending his final moments wrapped in Spring's arms, listening to his giggles and enjoying his affectionate touches.

Fulfilling that temporary promise had truly helped him figure out what it was that he really wanted and Spring knew that too, demanding praise for coming up with it more often than Minho could keep track of.

He didn't mind though. Not with Spring. Never with Spring.

''You can call me Jeongin.''

The special name promise.

Despite his waning strength, Minho grabbed Jeongin's chin, turning his head towards him and Jeongin, reading what he wanted, smiled shyly and leaned in, softly pressing his lips to Minho's.

And in that moment, there was no greater heaven than the one he had right here with Jeongin, tasting fresh grass on his lips, as well as the first rain of spring and the sun's warmth.

When they parted after their own little eternity, Minho was ready to commit.

''And you can call me Minho.''


End file.
